Dawn of a New Age: First Age
by ellisk
Summary: This story tells the history of Oropher and Thranduil's lives as Sindarin lords in Doriath, refugees of the destruction of Beleriand and rulers of Greenwood the Great.
1. Of the First Battle of Beleriand

**Chapter One: Of the First Battle of the Wars of Beleriand and the Rising of the Moon**

_But it came to pass at last that the end of bliss was at hand, and the noontide of Valinor was drawing to its twilight. For as has been told and as is known to all, being written in lore and sung in many songs, Melkor slew the Trees of the Valar with the aid of Ungoliant, and escaped, and came back to Middle-earth… Morgoth, as has before been told, returned to Angband, and built it anew, and above its doors he reared the reeking towers of Thangorodrim; and the gates of Morgoth were but one hundred and fifty leagues distant from the bridge of Menegroth: far and yet all too near._

_Now the Orcs that multiplied in the darkness of the earth grew strong and fell, and their dark lord filled them with a lust of rain and death; and they issued from Angband's gates under the clouds that Morgoth sent forth, and passed silently into the highlands of the north. Thence on a sudden a great army came into Beleriand and assailed King Thingol. Now in his wide realm many Elves wandered free in the wild, or dwelt at peace in small kindreds far sundered; and only about Menegroth in the midst of the land, and along the Falas in the country of the mariners, were there numerous peoples. But the Orcs came down upon either side of Menegroth, and from camps in the east between Celon and Gelion, and west in the plains between Sirion and Narog, they plundered far and wide; and Thingol was cut off from Círdan at Eglarest. Therefore he called upon Denethor; and the Elves came in force from Region beyond Aros and from Ossiriand, and fought the first battle in the Wars of Beleriand. _The Silmarillion: Of the Sindar

From the Long Wall in the south, a horn sounded.

Seconds later, two more calls answered it from the east and west—all signals that the troops were in position.

Elu Thingol looked out over the warriors assembled before him and felt their eyes upon him as they waited tensely for his signal. The wind on the plain whipped the white mane of the High King's war stallion, carrying the stench of Orcs and causing the beast to dance nervously as his nostrils flared. Starlight glinted off Thingol's bright helm and silver hair as he turned his gaze towards the sea of Orcs that his army had driven south. He paused a moment to smile coldly at their obvious confusion upon hearing the Elven horns.

The servants of Morgoth had thought to find the Elves of Beleriand defenseless when they descended on their lands, but they were gravely mistaken. The foresight of Melian and the warnings of the Dwarves and Denethor, who came from the East across the Ered Luin, assured that Thingol had anticipated the end of peace in Beleriand. He hired the Dwarves to build a stronghold and to forge arms and he raised an army commanded by the lords of his household. When war came, he was prepared. But no Elf in Middle Earth, not even the High King, had seen a battle of this scale. Indeed, few of the Sindar had been tested in battle at all.

With a last glance to Beleg, who signaled the readiness of his archers, Thingol turned to Daeron, riding to his right and carrying his dark blue and silver banner. He commanded him to sound the final horn.

At once, Beleg's archers loosed their first volley.

Chaos erupted amongst the Orcs. Arrows flew towards them not only from Elu Thingol's warriors to their north, but also from the south where Denethor, King of the Nandor, was hidden with a host of his people in the hills of the Andram, the Long Wall.

With high-pitched squeals, Orcs crumpled to the ground, arrows protruding from their bodies. Those that did not fall stopped short their race to the Andram, where they had expected to find shelter in the hills and the advantage of high ground. Panicked, they broke ranks. Some split off to either side of the main force in hopes of escaping to the east or west. Others fled southeast towards Ramdal, the Wall's End, intending to skirt to the east of the mountains.

That was precisely what the High King had expected them to do.

Beleg's archers continued to rain arrows on the Orcs that fled, reducing their numbers. At the same time, reinforcements led by Thingol's captain, Mablung, in the West and Thingol's youngest brother, Elmo, in the East, emerged to prevent the Orcs' escape. The enemy once again scattered, screeching in fear.

Thingol drew his sword, Aranrúth, from its sheath and held it aloft, gleaming in the starlight. At that signal, Daeron again blew his horn and Beleg ordered the Elven force to advance against the Orcs that had despoiled their lands. With furious cries, the Elves drew their blades and charged.

The Elven warriors hit upon their enemies with a force akin to Ulmo's waves crashing on the shore. The already disorganized Orcs were overrun. Cold fury over the invasion of his realm drove Thingol as he plunged Aranrúth between the breastplate and shoulder pauldron of the first Orc he encountered. The Orc loosed a satisfying squeal and crumpled to its knees. Planting his foot on the Orc's chest, Thingol dislodged his sword and allowed its momentum as it pulled free to bring the blade across the neck of another nearby enemy. This Orc also fell writhing on the ground. A third Orc charged Thingol, sword leveled at his horse's shoulder and growling in rage. Urging his stallion forward to protect it from the Orc's charge, Thingol parried the Orc's blow with Aranrúth, dragging down its sword. With the knife in his other hand, Thingol slit the Orc's throat. As that Orc fell, Thingol turned to the next, wielding his blade with deadly precision, the light of Aman blazing in his eyes.

Thingol's warriors cut a neat line through the Orcs' main force, splitting it in half and forcing it to fight a divided battle sandwiched between the Elves' main army led by Thingol and the High King's reinforcements to the East and West, led by Elmo and Mablung.

Of all the Elves in the King's army, the grandsons of Elmo and Mablung's officers were the most vicious. Celeborn and Galathil often wandered with their cousins through the forests of Neldoreth and Region. Thus, they had known most of the Elves that had been taken at unawares and slaughtered when the Orcs first descended on Beleriand. Similarly, Mablung's warriors, who patrolled the marches of the realm, were the only Elves that had already skirmished with wolves or Orkish scouts. They had discovered Morgoth's Orcs as they descended from the north into Beleriand and many had died protecting the borders before the High King mustered a force sufficient to drive the Orcs to this battle.

Those unarmed, wandering friends of Celeborn and Galathil and Mablung's warriors were the first Elves ever known to be slain in Beleriand. Their loss was bitterly grieved by all and their comrades fought fiercely now to avenge their deaths. Cries of 'For my son, Gwaelon' or 'For my father, Tossion' echoed across the battlefield as Elven swords cleaved Orc flesh. Each name rang in Thingol's ears more loudly than the sounds of the clanging weapons and pierced his heart more painfully than Orkish blades might.

After what seemed like an Age of raging battle, Thingol brought Aranrúth down to crush the helm of a fleeing Orc, but found no new target to meet his upswing. He looked around himself swiftly. At his side was Beleg. Black blood mingled with red on his armor as he also scanned their surrounds for danger. They glanced briefly at one another and then looked over the battlefield, strewn with the bodies of Orcs, some lying still and others writhing in pain or trying to drag themselves away. Around them, a jubilant cry of victory slowly arose and gained strength as the Elves realized the battle was won.

With a grim gleam in his eyes, Beleg bowed to Thingol and turned to take inventory of their losses.

Trusting his captain to see to the aftermath of the battle, Thingol allowed himself a moment to allay his personal fears. He searched the faces of the celebrating Elves until he saw his brother and nephews to the East. Taking a deep, calming breath, his eyes then sought his friends and closest advisors, his relief building with each Elf he found. Most were wounded, but few so badly that they could not stand. Finally, he turned south, squinting in the star light towards the Andram. There, he still detected the sounds and movement of battle. Just as he was about to gather his warriors to ride towards the continuing battle, a horn sounded to the south, faint and desperate.

"That is lord Denethor's horn!" Thingol heard a voice behind him say.

The king's expression hardened as he turned to Daeron. "See to the wounded here, finish off the Orcs that still live and send word to Elmo and Mablung to follow me south." His eyes shifted to Beleg. "Gather the warriors that can still fight and come with me," he ordered, urging his horse swiftly across the plain towards the Andram.

_But the victory of the Elves was dear-bought For those of Ossiriand were light-armed, and no match for theOrcs, who were shod with iron and iron-shielded and bore great spears with broad blades; and Denethor was cut off and surrounded upon the hill of Amon Ereb. There he fell and all his nearest kin about him, before the host of Thingol could come to his aid. Bitterly though his fall was avenged, when Thingol came upon the rear of the Orcs and slew them in heaps, his people lamented him ever after and took no king again. _The Silmarillion: Of the Sindar

From his position hidden in the slopes of the Andram, Oropher's stomach roiled when he first caught sight and scent of the Orcs that the High King's forces drove south. Around him, he saw many of the Nandor grip their bows as their faces contorted with hate and rage and fear. He knew his father's people in the East, unlike his mother's in Beleriand, had already known too much grief fighting these hideous creatures. Seeing the Nandorin warriors now, he was reminded of the look of deep grief and anger on his father's face while listening to the tales his cousin Denethor told of his flight across the mountains, fleeing the Orcs and seeking the aid of the High King—so many Elves, long sundered friends and kin, had been lost.

Before this battle, Oropher himself had known only a fraction of their pain—he and his brother Engwe had been with their cousins, Celeborn and Galathil, when they had happened upon the ruined camp of the friends they had sought to meet along the far northeastern banks of the Esgalduin River. He knew that if he lived until the end of all things, he would never forget the shock he had felt that day. Furious and anguished and sickened, they had followed the strange tracks of their friends' attackers to avenge them, only to be turned back by Mablung's warriors, who had already slaughtered the invaders.

Now, as they waited for the Orcs fleeing across the plains to come to them, Oropher's hand shook with rage at the sight of them and he knew he could only imagine the extent of the hatred felt by the Nandor, who had long suffered in the east at the Orcs' hands.

"Our bows will not penetrate their iron armor, so your arrows must be well placed," he heard his father, Cellon, ordering the Elves around them. "Aim for their face and neck or the spaces between the plates in their armor such as between their breastplate and shoulder pauldrons or under their arms."

Denethor had asked Thingol to allow Cellon to fight with his warriors on the Western flank of the Andram. Though Denethor and Cellon were long sundered—since the time Cellon followed his heart and Thingol's niece, Doroniel, instead of Lenwë when the King of the Nandor had led so many aside from the Great Journey—they were cousins, close kin, and dear friends. Besides that, Denethor knew that Cellon's sons, Oropher and Engwe, and some other more heavily armed Sindar would join him in battle and that could only serve to strengthen his host.

Denethor's horn sounded to the East of their position, signaling that the Orcs were within range of the army hidden in the Andram. Immediately afterward, horns blew from the Northeast and Northwest.

"Draw your bows," Cellon ordered.

Oropher glanced quickly at his brother, Engwe, as he pulled an arrow from his quiver, fitted it against his bowstring and aimed at the throat of an approaching Orc. His brother and father did the same. As the sound of bending wood filled his ears, Oropher's focus centered on that black target.

A moment later a final horn sounded—Thingol's, the signal to fully join the battle.

Oropher loosed his arrow and, as he drew a second, he watched the first drive into the throat where it had been aimed. The Orc staggered back from the force of its impact and collapsed. By the time he lay writhing on the ground, Oropher loosed another arrow, felling another enemy.

Quickly the Orcs began to scatter, some turning from the mountains and others running east, to flank Denethor's forces.

"Amdir, you and your archers keep driving the Orcs that have turned back north, but stay in the hills," Cellon shouted. "The rest of you, with me. We need to stop as many as possible before they reach Wall's End."

Following Cellon with several dozen warriors, Oropher ran along the crags of the Andram, shooting at Orcs as he went. The further they pursued their enemy, the wider the Orcs swung from the hills and the harder they were to shoot. This difficulty was compounded by the fact that the Elves had a limited supply of arrows that was quickly diminishing.

As he searched for a shot that would not waste a precious arrow, Oropher growled in frustration. Beside him, his brother and several other warriors also hesitated. Finding no shot to take, Oropher turned his eyes to the slopes around him. He quickly spotted an easy path that led to the plain below and he began to descend the hills. Engwe and several of the younger warriors moved to follow him.

Eyes trained on the Orcs, focused solely on drawing within shooting range of them again, Oropher jumped when a hand closed around his upper arm. Turning, he saw Engwe. He scowled irritably at his younger brother before realizing that their father was yelling at him.

"Stay in the high ground, Oropher," his father's voice commanded.

Oropher's scowl deepened. "We cannot hit them from this distance," he shouted back, while pointing across the plain at the Orcs.

Cellon shook his head. "Too few of us are well enough armored to fight the Orcs at close range. We cannot lead unarmored warriors into the open and if those of us that are armored descend alone, our numbers will be no match for the Orcs. Stay in the hills," he repeated firmly.

Oropher looked back at the Orcs, now fleeing well out of range towards the Wall's End and briefly considered disobeying his father's order. If they could not cull the number of Orcs that reached Denethor's position, they would not be able to prevent the Orcs from escaping between the Wall's End and Amon Ereb.

He felt Engwe's grip tighten on his arm. "Come, muindor nin. This is no time to test adar. This is battle, not some fool adventure you have dragged us on. We do not know the full battle plan that lord Denethor and the High King are following. Adar does," Engwe said softly.

Loosing an irate growl, Oropher continued eastward on the slope, not climbing higher, but not descending further either. They had only progressed a short distance when they heard a short, weak blast from Denethor's horn.

Oropher turned to Cellon in time to see him look in the direction of the sound and signal the warriors with him to pick up their pace. No longer pausing to take shots at the fleeing Orcs, the Elven warriors raced over the hills of the Andram towards the Wall's End.

By the time they reached it, Orcs were streaming between the Andram and Amon Ereb. Arrows rained down upon them from the hills, felling many, but there were not enough Elves to stop their escape. From the heights of the hills, Cellon's warriors added their bows to those of the Elves already present. As he loosed arrow after arrow into the black river of Orcs below him, Oropher saw his father searching the hills around him.

"He led a group of archers to the plain, my lord," Oropher heard a Nandorin Elf shout. "To try to cut off their escape."

From the corner of his eye, Oropher saw his father frown at that. Oropher tensed as well. Orcs had overrun the shallow valley below. If Denethor was there, he was already lost.

At that moment, a host of Sindar, led by Thingol on his white steed, descended from the north, the starlight glimmering on their Dwarven armor. Amongst the Elves were Elmo, his son, Galadhon, and Oropher's cousins, Celeborn and Galathil. Without waiting for his father's order, and followed by his brother and several other young Sindarin Elves of his own generation, Oropher rushed down the slopes of the hills to join them.

A growling cry of rage arose from somewhere within Oropher as he charged towards the Orcs, drowning out his father's shouted orders. He reached the line of fleeing Orcs and drove his sword into the neck of the first one he encountered. Oropher fell suddenly silent as the Orc screamed and cursed in pain before collapsing to its knees.

In the hills, firing arrows at the distant enemy, Oropher had kept a silent count of his kills, knowing that his friend Amglaur would be doing the same. They always competed to see who could bag the most pheasants or ducks during hunts. But as he added this Orc to his count—as this Orc clutched at his throat and spent his last gurgling breaths on curses—Oropher was reduced to staring at the creature's pointed ears. Killing something, not to eat it, but simply to eliminate it; ending the life of something that spoke with words; watching at close range as it fell at his feet, writhing in pain, and feeling a sense of grim glee to see it die—that was a much different deed than hunting pheasants, he realized with a sudden wave of nausea. The words of the Nandor who had reported to Thingol that the Orcs were Elves twisted by Morgoth's foul crafts rang in his ears.

A spike of pain in his arm brought Oropher's attention back to the battle. He looked to his right to see an Orc shifting its stance to drive its blade up after swinging it across Oropher's upper arm. The blow had cut through his boiled leather jerkin, but was turned by the mail he wore underneath. Oropher blocked the Orc's swing with the knife in his left hand as he brought his sword up into the Orc's gut with his right. Before the Orc had hit the ground, Oropher turned to square off with another.

Soon, cries of 'To the King' caused Oropher and the Elves around him to look about in alarm. Oropher loosed a long breath when he caught sight of Thingol's silver helm. A moment later, parrying another blow and stabbing another Orc, his relief fled as he realized the call had been raised to rally to Denethor. Oropher scanned the terrain for the Nandorin King. He thought he glimpsed Denethor's green banner on Amon Ereb and his suspicion was confirmed when Thingol and the Sindar around him surged towards the hill, cutting through Orcs in their path.

Oropher followed, also slaying Orcs as he progressed. As he neared the hill, Oropher saw Thingol's warriors pause for a moment and then redouble their efforts, tearing through the fleeing Orcs as fire would consume the dry grass of the plain. But Cellon and the Nandor with him did not follow the High King. Instead they remained on the hill, silent.

Heart racing, Oropher pulled his blade from the gut of an Orc and ran to the hill. Next to Cellon, Oropher saw his younger brother Engwe. Engwe was wounded, though not badly. He stood to Cellon's right, supporting him. Cellon's tunic was covered in blood and for a terrifying moment, Oropher thought his father was wounded. Then he saw the reason why Cellon required his son's support to stand. Oropher stood, frozen and staring at the hill in silent horror as the sounds of the battle receded into the distance.

On the Amon Ereb lay the bodies of many Orcs. Amongst them lay Denethor's green banner, still clutched in the hand of the Elf that had born it. An arrow pierced his chest. The banner partially covered the body of its King.

Cellon dropped to his knees and gathered his cousin's body into his arms as the battle raged around him.

_And when Thingol came again to Menegroth he learned that the Orc-host in the west was victorious, and had driven Círdan to the rim of the sea. Therefore he withdrew all his people that his summons could reach within the fastness of Neldoreth and Region, and Melian put forth her power and fenced all that dominion round about with an unseen wall of shadow and bewilderment: the Girdle of Melian, that none thereafter could pass against her will or the will of King Thingol, unless one should come with a power greater than that of Melian the Maia. And this inner land, which was long named Eglador, was after called Doriath, the guarded kingdom, Land of the Girdle. Within it there was yet a watchful peace; but without there was peril and great fear, and the servants of Morgoth roamed at will, save in the walled havens of the Falas._

_But new tidings were at hand, which none in Middle-earth had foreseen, neither Morgoth in his pits nor Melian in Menegroth; for no news came out of Aman whether by messenger, or by spirit, or by vision in dream, after the death of the Trees. In this same time Fëanor came over the Sea in the white ships of the Teleri and landed in the Firth of Drengist, and there burned the ships at Losgar. _The Silmarillion: Of the Sindar

"So Amglaur bested your count by two, is that correct, Oropher?" Galathil whispered in a teasing voice as they followed their fathers to the High King's throne room. Beside him, Celeborn shook his head and laughed softly.

Oropher did not so much as look at his cousins in acknowledgement, but the corners of his mouth did turn down in a scowl, eliciting a snort from both Amdir and his younger brother Amglaur.

Oropher's spine stiffened. That sound demanded a response.

"Amdir and Amglaur remained in a stationary position during the entire battle," Oropher contested coolly. "While Engwe and I covered the eastern length of the Andram. Shooting while moving is a much more difficult skill..."

"As usual, Oropher cannot bear to admit he was bested," Amglaur interrupted haughtily.

Pausing outside the doors to the Great Hall, and thereby forcing his grandsons to stop as well to avoid running into him, Elmo faced the younger Elves with a stern glare. "It is unimaginably insensitive and ill-mannered to make sport of the battle in which so many of your people, not to mention your own cousin, died. If you have no better sense, hold your tongues," Elmo whispered angrily before turning and entering the hall.

The younger Elves looked guiltily at Elmo and lowered their eyes to the floor silently when they saw their fathers glaring at them as well.

"I fear it does not matter how many Orcs we all killed," Celeborn said quietly as they took their seats a moment later. "We did not kill them all, nor did we eliminate their master." He looked at Oropher. "I think we have done the last of the wandering that we will do for a long while, at least outside the forests. It is too dangerous. Luthien mentioned to me that the High King is considering enclosing the realm somehow to keep it safe."

Oropher's brother, Engwe, nodded. "I was speaking to one of Mablung's officers. The king has sent messengers to encourage everyone to move within the forests. Most are heeding his call, I heard."

"They would be fools not to after what we have seen," Oropher said softly, though with a bitter tone.

Their conversation was cut short when Thingol and Melian entered the hall. Everyone present came to their feet as the High King and his Queen proceeded down the corridor formed by the benches where the nobles were seated to climb the stairs of the raised dais and stand before their thrones. Thingol seated his wife and then himself, gesturing for his courtiers to sit as well.

"I have assembled you to hear reports regarding how we have fared in our battles against the Orcs and to inform you of how I intend to protect our people from future attacks," he began in a clear voice. "Let us begin by hearing from our captains regarding the success of our battles in the east and west." He turned to Mablung, who was standing to the side of the assembled nobles. "Have we eliminated the enemy in the east?"

"Yes, my lord King," Mablung replied, stepping forward and bowing at the waist. "Some of our warriors pursued the remaining Orcs into the mountains, where they met with the dwarves. Others were driven north, but very few Orcs returned whence they came. We believe that the lands between the Celon and the Gelion are once again safe."

"Good," Thingol replied, smiling grimly. Then he focused on Beleg, who stood with Mablung. "What of the lands west of the Sirion? Were you able to finally reach lord Cirdan in the Havens?"

Beleg nodded. "Yes, my lord King. The force that besieged the Falas has been broken. But when I spoke with lord Cirdan's warriors, they told me that the host of Orcs withdrew northwards of their own accord—the Falathrim did not drive them back. That news concerned me. Fearing they might intend to assail some new target, my warriors and I followed their tracks as swiftly as possible. They go north towards Mithrim. I sent scouts in that direction to determine if our kin there need our aid. I expect their return within the week, my lord King."

"Well done, Beleg," Thingol replied. "And I am pleased to hear that Cirdan's Havens are once again safe."

Beleg frowned. "Forgive me, my lord King, but I am not certain that we can call the lands between the Narog and the Sirion safe. Returning from the Falas, we did skirmish with several bands of Orcs. And until we determine the fate of those that withdrew, we cannot know that the western lands are secure."

Thingol nodded once in agreement. "Indeed that is true. And even after we are certain those Orcs have been destroyed, we can no longer be confident that more will not come in their place. I have no intention of leaving the safety of this realm to chance. Therefore, I have requested that all our people withdraw to the forests of Brethil, Neldoreth and Region." He laid his hand over Melian's, where it rested on the arm of her throne. "This will be the area that I will protect, with our Lady's aid."

Oropher and his cousins exchanged a curious glance upon learning the rumors that they had heard were true. Any whispers between them however were forestalled when Melian spoke.

"From this moment forth," she declared, "I set around the forests of Brethil, Neldoreth, Region and Nivrim a mist of enchantment. All who try to cross the borders of this realm against the will of my lord will wander lost in shadow and confusion, failing to find entrance," she said simply. And then she raised her voice in song. Her song was soft and clear as the nightingale, yet powerful and all who heard it listened in silent awe.

When she stopped singing, a soft murmur arose from the nobles in the hall, expressing amazement that such an enchantment could be achieved so effortlessly, but all remembered how Melian had stopped Ungoliant's descent into Neldoreth, so they harbored no doubts that she was equal to this task.

Thingol silenced his nobles' whisperings when he resumed speaking. "I have heard from most of my messengers that our people will heed my summons. The group that has offered the most resistance is the Nandor. They are reluctant to leave Ossiriand, though I still hope to persuade who ever they chose to succeed lord Denethor to lead them to Region."

Oropher raised his eyebrows when his father stood, looking to Thingol for permission to speak. Thingol granted it with a nod of his head. "As you know, my lord King, Denethor, his sons and brother were all killed on Amon Ereb. I have spoken with my cousins that still live amongst the Nandor. It seems they have no intention of accepting another king. Their grief over the loss of Denethor is too great. And they dearly love the lands of Ossiriand. I doubt they will be persuaded to give up their homes after losing their king. They have suffered enough losses already."

Thingol nodded gravely. "I certainly will not force them to move," he said reassuringly. "And I will do what I can to protect them, but I can only guarantee the safety of those that live within the forests."

As Cellon bowed and reseated himself, another of Thingol's kinsmen, Ëol, made to stand. He wore an agitated expression. Before Thingol could acknowledge him, however, a page burst through the closed doors and ran into the Hall.

"Forgive me, my lord King," he said breathlessly, not even bothering to bow. "You must come immediately. To see…the…I am not sure what it is, but you can see it from the Gates."

Thingol looked at the page for a long moment, his courtiers silently awaiting his response to this strange interruption.

"I will come see it, whatever it may be," he said finally, leading Melian from the dais.

_Isil was first wrought and made ready, and first rose into the realm of the stars, and was the elder of the new lights, as was Telperion of the Trees. Then for a while the world had moonlight, and many things stirred and woke that had waited long in the sleep of Yavanna. The servants of Morgoth were filled with amazement, but the Elves of the Outer Lands looked up in delight; and even as the Moon rose above the darkness in the west, Fingolfin let blow his silver trumpets and began his march into Middle-earth, and the shadows of his host went long and black before them_. The Silmarillion: Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor

Thingol strode out through the gates of Menegroth, pausing on the landing before stepping onto the bridge. A strange light, like that of many lanterns, made shadows dance on the ground before him. Groups of Elves stood in the clearings on the near and far sides of the bridge looking up silently, their eyes wide—some with amazement and delight and others with a hint of fear. Thingol could not help but follow their gaze.

When he turned, he saw a large, silver, gem-like disc rising in the western sky. Its light outshone the stars. Beams of silver illuminated the river below and it sparkled beneath him. All around him in the forest, tiny white flowers opened in the new light and birds began to sing as if in celebration of spring. Even the trees seemed to turn their branches towards the new silver glow.

"Is this some new evil sent from the north?" he heard one of his courtiers whisper as they joined him in staring at the mysterious object in the western sky.

"I do not believe that," Elmo replied, awe in his voice. "It is magnificent, not evil."

"Something evil would not bring the forest to life so," Celeborn agreed.

The whispering continued around the High King as he studied the sky until Melian gasped. All present looked at her, but she was focused solely on the new light.

"That is Tilion," she declared, pointing at the disk. "One of Oromë's hunters. I knew him once."

The Elves around her remained silent, staring between her, the High King and the light. Thingol was also fixed upon it and the light in his eyes resembled that in the sky.

"And the light itself is that of Telperion, unless I am very much mistaken," he said softly.

Melian's eyes widened but she nodded, gazing in wonder at the light. "This is no evil. It is sent by the Valar, but for what purpose, I do not know."

The Elves that heard that pronouncement all turned back to gaze at the sky as a murmur rose and spread through the people standing in the forest. That the Light of the Two Trees would now be shared with all of Arda was a momentous event—what it signified, they dared not speculate.

* * *

Miles to the west and to the north, the light of the Moon glistened off the ice and the silver trumpet of the Elf that led them. The Noldor host struggled forward. Manarindë glared back at the light coldly. It offered no warmth for their journey. It was only a pale shadow of the glory of the Tree that bore it—all the Valar could muster in the face of their defeat. She turned her back on the west and trudged forward towards the promise of a new life.

* * *

Adar--Father

Muindor nin--My brother

AN: Some of the same OCs that appear in _Interrupted Journeys_ will also appear in this story. It is not necessary to read that story to understand this one at all.

I have added very few OCs to canon family trees for this story--primarily to explain Oropher's relation to Elu Thingol and Denethor as I want to portray it. That is purely fiction on my part, but since Tolkien does not make those family trees entirely explicit, I have taken some license with them. Otherwise, I will stick to canon--feel free to let me know if I make a mistake. :-)


	2. Of the Rising of the Winged Sun

**Chapter 2: Of the Rising of the Winged Sun over Beleriand**

_Anar the Fire-golden, fruit of Laurelin, the Valar named the Sun. But the Noldor named it also Vása, the Heart of Fire, that awakens and consumes; for the Sun was set as a sign for the awakening of Men and the waning of the Elves… The maiden whom the Valar chose from among the Maiar to guide the vessel of the Sun was named Arien…and she was chosen because she had not feared the heats of Laurelin, and was unhurt by them, being from the beginning a spirit of fire, whom Melkor had not deceived nor drawn to his service. Too bright were the eyes of Arien for even the Eldar to look on, and leaving Valinor she forsook the form and raiment, which like the Valar she had worn there, and she was as a naked flame, terrible in the fullness of her splendour. _

_Tilion had traversed the heavens seven times, and thus was in the furthest east, when the vessel of Arien was made ready. Then Anar arose in glory, and the first dawn of the Sun was like a great fire upon the towers of the Pelóri: the clouds of Middle-earth were kindled, and there was heard the sound of many waterfalls. Then indeed Morgoth was dismayed, and he descended into the uttermost depths of Angband, and withdrew his servants, sending forth great reek and dark cloud to hide his land from the light of the Day-star._ The Silmarillion: Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor

"It is a beautiful thing," Amdir said as he settled himself on the broad branch of an oak where the golden shafts of light that danced amongst the leaves could fall on his upturned face. He squinted skyward, admiring the wisps of soft pink that floated above them and the fiery orange that burned on the horizon. "And it paints the sky with the most marvelous colors."

A derisive snort sounded below him. Clearly, not all of his four companions, who had climbed into the oak for a clearer view of the sky, agreed with Amdir's assessment of this new wonder.

"It hurts the eyes," his younger brother Amglaur replied while turning his back to the bright disk that blazed above them. He leaned against the trunk of the tree, sheltering in its shadows.

"And it hides the stars," Engwe added, joining Amglaur in the shade.

Oropher scowled at Engwe as Amdir's smile faded. "I agree with Amdir," he said firmly. "The colors that this light has revealed are some of the most vibrant I have ever seen. My friend Celonhael—the one who paints," he paused until the others nodded in recognition of the name. "He has spent hours already just studying the fine variations in the shades of blue in the sky—not to mention the pinks and purples in the clouds and the way the light sparkles from behind the clouds when they pass in front of it. He is busy developing new techniques to mix paints so that their hues are true to the vibrancy of the colors we now see and he is developing new ways to capture the light in his paintings. Lord Thingol was very impressed by what he has done so far and has promised to hang the first piece he completes using his new style in the Great Hall when it is finished." He paused and peered through the branches at the heavens. "The Lady says that, just as Tilion steers a flower of Telperion across the sky, this is Arien and a fruit of Laurelin," he continued with a softer tone.

Amglaur made a sour face. "If a mere flower or fruit from Telperion and Laurelin casts this much light," he said with a dry tone, "I am glad to have never seen the whole of the Two Trees. Aman must be a very uncomfortable place," he concluded, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the light.

Amdir laughed lightly, shook his head and looked away from his brother, abandoning the argument. He turned his face back towards the sky.

Oropher, on the other hand, scowled. "My point is: these gifts—I wonder why the Valar have chosen to share them with us now. They have never before bestowed any such boons on the Elves remaining in Middle Earth."

Engwe shrugged, also bored with the argument and his brother's typical bickering with Amglaur. "Perhaps to help drive away the evil creatures. Apparently the Orcs flee from the light as if it burns them."

"It does burn," Amglaur muttered.

Galathil, who was highest in the tree in order to best escape the debate, sighed loudly. "The trees like the light," he said as a fresh, green leaf caressed his cheek. "They turn towards its warmth and their song is joyful. Indeed the whole world is in bloom. Such a thing can only be good and that is all that matters."

"Well said, muindor nin," declared a voice below them.

All eyes to turned downward to where Celeborn stood looking up at them from the base of the tree. They had not been able to find him when they decided to forgo breakfast to further investigate the new light. Galathil smiled, clearly pleased his brother had found them, and motioned for him to join them in the tree's embrace. Celeborn complied, leaping into the branches.

"And if you are wise," the silver elf continued while climbing towards them and looking at each of his friends in turn, "you will maintain an equally respectful attitude in lord Thingol's presence." He reached their height in the tree and straddled a branch. "Does that remind any of you of anything? Are we not all supposed to be somewhere?" he asked with a meaningful, if slightly teasing tone.

Galathil tensed. "Is it already time for us to be in court? It is impossible to keep track of the time without the stars."

Celeborn smiled. "I think it is the song of the trees that is distracting you, little brother. But yes, adar sent me to find all of you. Lord Thingol has already arrived in the Great Hall, but fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on your point of view—Eöl waylaid him as he entered. If we hurry, our tardiness may go unnoticed by everyone but our adars."

Oropher looked at Celeborn sharply. "Eöl is in court today?" he asked, voice rising with amusement.

Celeborn shook his head and leveled a forbidding glare on his friend. "Do not think to jest about this situation, Oropher," he warned. "Lord Thingol had already heard more from Eöl than he cared to hear when I slipped out to look for you."

Oropher simply smiled at Celeborn. "I only intend to watch," he said with a mischievous grin as he began his descent from the tree.

_But now the trees of Nan Elmoth were the tallest and darkest in all Beleriand, and there the sun never came; and there Eöl dwelt, who was named the Dark Elf. Of old he was of the kin of Thingol, but he was restless and ill at ease in Doriath, and when the Girdle of Melian was set about the Forest of Region where he dwelt, he fled thence to Nan Elmoth. There he lived in deep shadow, loving the night and the twilight under the stars._ The Silmarillion: Of Maeglin

_Eöl gave Anglachel to Thingol as fee, which he begrudged, for leave to dwell in Nan Elmoth; but its mate Anguirel he kept, until it was stolen from him by Maeglin, his son… that was a sword of great worth, and it was so named because it was made of iron that fell from heaven as a blazing star; it would cleave all earth-delved iron_. The Silmarillion: Of Túrin Turambar

When Oropher and his cousins approached the High King's throne room, the guards at its doors stood aside to allow them entrance, and as they passed, the guards bowed. Oropher did not acknowledge the courtesy—he was too busy scanning the room for the king and his cousin. Next to their places around the table at the foot of the dais stood Cellon, Oropher and Engwe's father, along with Galadhon, Elmo and Tathron, the parents of his cousins. Oropher glanced at his father as his gaze swept over the room, taking in the other nobles also gathered in the Hall. Cellon's expression was impassive. Nonetheless, Oropher could feel its intensity and it was that warning that prevented him from allowing amusement to show in his own features when he finally spotted Thingol and Eöl.

They stood in a corner at the back of the throne room, Thingol with his back to one of the pillars that supported the high ceiling. Eöl had clearly herded and trapped the king there as he entered the Hall. Eöl stood nearly toe-to-toe with him, whispering and gesticulating in an animated fashion. Thingol's eyes were closed. As Eöl continued to speak, Thingol rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"It burns the eyes and hides the stars," Oropher heard Eöl whisper. Thingol's brows drew together and Oropher could not repress a snort in response to the High King's reaction to Eöl's statement—the exact observation that Amglaur and Engwe had made earlier. Oropher looked at his brother and cousin to make sure they had seen the king's scowl. Their frowns indicated that they had. Before Oropher could gloat, Celeborn pushed him further into the room, past where Thingol stood with Eöl and towards the table where their fathers awaited them. Even if he could no longer see the king, Oropher along with everyone else in the room heard Thingol's response.

"And that is where this discussion began, if I recall correctly, Eöl. You have made your complaints abundantly clear. Less clear is what you expect me to do about them. I cannot undo what the Valar themselves have done," he said in an overly patient tone.

"Well, what about _her_?" Eöl asked. "She is one of them. Can _she_ not do something?"

As Oropher took his place at the table next to his father, he turned just enough to peer at Eöl. He was pointing behind himself in the general direction of the throne where Melian stood awaiting her husband. Oropher's eyes widened slightly in response to Eöl's tone as he referred to the Queen. They widened further when he saw the King's response--Thingol's expression had turned as cold as the stone that surrounded him, but the heat of his anger was clearly evident in the intense glare he leveled on Eöl.

Before Thingol could speak, Melian answered in a soft voice that echoed throughout the Hall. "Neither can _I_ undo what the Valar themselves have done, Eöl," she said, walking towards her husband.

Eöl turned towards her sharply. "You can imprison our people with these mists that you have caused to swirl about the forest, but you cannot use them to protect us from this burning light? What good is that?" he demanded.

"It is precisely the 'protection' that I, your king, commanded," Thingol answered. "And the light is the protection bestowed upon us by the Valar. The evil creatures cannot abide it. I would not order it extinguished or hidden even if the Queen had the power to do so."

"Nor would I choose to extinguish it if I could," Melian agreed, coming to stand next to Thingol. "The light that now shines over Middle Earth gives life to all that has, until now, laid under the Sleep of Yavanna. I am Yavanna's servant and I rejoice that finally the beauty of her works may delight Middle Earth as they have long brought joy and solace to the Gardens of Lorien."

Eöl loosed a short, scoffing laugh. "Well this light brings me neither joy nor solace. I love the stars and I miss their beauty. I will not accept this 'gift,' nor will I be held prisoner by you in this forest." He focused on Thingol. "If you can do nothing, I am going to Nan Elmoth. It is ancient and dense. The trees there should be able to provide what you cannot." With that, Eöl turned to leave the Hall.

From the corner of his eye, Oropher saw his brother's jaw drop and realized that his own was hanging open as well in response to Eöl's disrespect. Thingol's next words demonstrated he was no better impressed.

"If you think," the High King said with a hard, forbidding tone that stopped Eöl in his tracks, "that I will allow you to dwell in the same forest where I courted and wed my lady wife after you have spoken to her as you just have, you are a greater fool than anyone ever imagined."

Only the seriousness of the situation prevented Oropher from laughing openly at that statement—many people had referred to Eöl as a fool, but never to his face.

Eöl turned back to the king, hands balled tightly into fists, his stance tense. But Thingol did not pause to give him time to speak.

"If you are so anxious to be hidden from the light, I will gladly oblige you. I will lock you in a cell in the dungeons before I will see your presence defile the beauty of the forest where I first met my lady wife if this is the way you would treat her. I promise you that there, the light you hate so much will never find you and you will learn the meaning of your accusation—you will learn what it means to be truly imprisoned."

Eöl's eyes widened and then swiftly narrowed in response to that threat. The guards at the door of the Hall took a step towards the King and Eöl, unsure how they should react to Thingol's words and Eöl's threatening posture. Oropher, his cousins, and indeed all the nobles in the hall watched in tense silence for Eöl's response, knowing the temper of both elves.

It was Melian's soft voice that intervened.

"An evil doom lies before you, Eöl, whether you go or stay," she said. Then she laid a hand on Thingol's arm. "But the lesser evil will arise from his departure, I believe. My counsel is that you let him go, my lord."

Eöl's brows drew together sharply. "My fate is my own and will not be dictated to me by you or anyone else," he spat.

But Thingol ignored him, instead holding Melian's gaze for a long moment before turning back to his cousin. "So be it," he answered quietly. "But you will answer for the disrespect you have shown your Queen." His voice hardened. "You will forfeit something dear to you in exchange for insulting the person most dear to my heart. You may go to Nan Elmoth, but the price of my leave to do so is Anglachel and Anguirel. Give me those swords in payment or I will not allow you to go—my guards will arrest you if you try," he pronounced.

Oropher glanced at the sword that hung at Eöl's side—Anglachel—and watched as Eöl's face contorted in anger. That sword and its mate, Anguirel, were Eöl's dearest possessions, the work of his hands and heart. Since he had forged it, long before the battles or even the attacks upon the elves in Beleriand had begun, Eöl had worn his swords proudly. Oropher knew Thingol could not have named a higher price and he knew it was one Eöl would not willingly pay. He found himself moving away from the table and towards the king and queen. And he was not alone. His cousins, father and uncles were all silently doing the same.

Eöl opened his mouth to refuse Thingol's demand; he shifted his stance, willing to fight if need be. As he did, he saw that Thingol's council had moved from around the table and now surrounded the king and queen. The guards had also come forward and stood behind him. Scowling bitterly, he drew Anglachel from its sheath on his belt.

Instantly, the guards drew their own swords—eyes wide, clearly horrified to by this turn of events, but still determined to do their duty and protect their king, no matter the adversary. Thingol stepped between Melian and Eöl, arms wide as the noble elves surrounding him stepped forward to lay hands on Eöl.

But Eöl threw Anglachel to the ground at Thingol's feet. "Take it. But you will not have Anguirel. It goes with me to Nan Elmoth," he said, and he turned to face the guards behind him, clearly intent on charging past them.

All looked to Thingol for his command.

"I care not at all for swords," Melian whispered.

Thingol loosed a long breath and waved his hand. The guards stood aside and Eöl stormed from the Hall.

Thingol watched him leave, his jaw clenched tightly. Then he reached for Melian's hand and brought it to his lips. "No sword nor anything else made by the hands of elves or even the Valar themselves approaches the worth of my wife or my daughter," he said. Then his gaze turned to the doors through which Eöl had disappeared. "But his insolence should not go unanswered."

"Nor shall it," Melian replied, "But others will answer it at another time."

Thingol nodded and glanced at the elves assembled in the Hall. "As you wish, my lady, " he replied. He placed Melian's hand on his arm and covered it with his own. "We have other issues to discuss and we are much better off without Eöl's hot temper interfering while we do so," he said, leading her to the dais and gesturing to his courtiers to return to their places.

Oropher found himself releasing the breath he had been holding as he walked behind Thingol to the table.

"I told you this situation was not one to play with," Celeborn whispered into his ear.

"Indeed not," he replied. "Of course anyone could predict Eöl's arrogance would one day lead him to trouble."

Celeborn looked at Oropher sidelong, a reply on his lips, but instead of speaking, he smiled and shook his head.

"What?" Oropher demanded in a whisper.

Celeborn again shook his head. "Discretion, in this case, is definitely the better part of valor," he replied and moved to take his seat opposite Oropher. Oropher glared at him narrowly.

_Fëanor went up the long Firth of Drengist that pierced the Echoing Hills of Ered Lómin, and passed thus from the shores into the great land of Hithlum; and they came at length to the long lake of Mithrim, and upon its northern shore made their encampment in the region that bore the same name. But the host of Morgoth, aroused by the tumult of Lam-moth and the light of the burning at Losgar, came through the passes of Ered Wethrin, the Mountains of Shadow, and assailed Fëanor on a sudden, before his camp was full-wrought or put in defence; and there on the grey fields of Mithrim was fought the Second Battle in the Wars of Beleriand. Dagor-nuin-Giliath it is named, the Battle-under-Stars, for the Moon had not yet risen; and it is renowned in song. The Noldor, outnumbered and taken at unawares, were yet swiftly victorious; for the light of Aman was not yet dimmed in their eyes, and they were strong and swift, and deadly in anger, and their swords were long and terrible. The Orcs fled before them, and they were driven forth from Mithrim with great slaughter, and hunted over the Mountains of Shadow into the great plain of Ard-galen, that lay northward of Dorthonion…._

_From the Grey Elves of Mithrim the Noldor learned of the power of Elu Thingol, King in Doriath, and the girdle of enchantment that fenced his realm; and tidings of the Noldor's great deeds in the north came south to Menegroth, and to the havens of Brithombar and Eglarest. Then all the Elves of Beleriand were filled with wonder and with hope at the coming of their mighty kindred, who thus returned unlooked-for from the West in the very hour of their need, believing indeed at first that they came as emissaries of the Valar to deliver them._ The Silmarillion: Of the Return of the Noldor

Thingol looked out over the nobles of his court assembled before him.

"The last time I gathered you together, it was to discuss how we fared against the evil creatures and how we would defend ourselves against future attacks. One question we left unanswered at that time was the means by which the orcs were driven from lord Cirdan's Havens." He paused and nodded towards an elf that Oropher recognized as a lord of the Nandor.

"Is that not Saeros, Ithilbor's son?" Engwe whispered in Oropher's ear. "What could _he_ be doing here?"

Oropher smothered the smirk he wished to bestow on his little brother, but he could not hide the amusement in his eyes. Engwe and Saeros had long been rivals. "It seems he has found some favor with the King," he whispered, biting his lip to restrain his laughter at Engwe's sour face.

"Late last night, the scouts Beleg sent north towards Mithrim returned," Thingol continued, causing Oropher and Engwe to fall silent again. "Saeros was one of them and I will let him tell what he learned there."

Saeros stood and bowed to the king, but when he faced the others to speak, his posture clearly betrayed a pride that brought an open scowl to Engwe's features.

"The news I bring from Mithrim is great indeed," Saeros began.

Engwe snorted softly, gazing at Saeros with unconcealed contempt. Oropher's eyes narrowed slightly as well and he saw Amglaur roll his eyes, causing his brother Amdir to turn his head to hide a smile. Celeborn looked a warning at all of his friends that his grandsire Elmo echoed.

But Saeros, oblivious, continued his story. "I was with Beleg when the King ordered that he and his warriors hurry south to aid lord Cirdan. Reaching the Havens, we learned the orcs had turned north of their own accord, not driven by any host of lord Cirdan. So Beleg chose me to lead scouts north to be certain the orcs were not beleaguering our people there."

"I heard Beleg sent him to be rid of his arrogance," Engwe whispered.

A hand closed over Engwe's wrist where it rested on the table, gripping it firmly. "_I_ heard Beleg sent him north to give him purpose so that he would not fade after learning of his adar's death on Amon Ereb with lord Denethor," Engwe's father, Cellon, whispered coldly. "Be silent. And if you cannot feel pity, than at least be respectful of the High King's messenger."

The younger elves glanced at each other and returned their attention to Saeros, with impassive expressions firmly in place.

"When we reached Mithrim," Saeros continued, "we found there, camped around Lake Mithrim, a host of elves whose banner I did not recognize—it bore what appeared to be a winged, golden sun of sixteen points on a blue field. We learned from the Grey Elves that these strangers were responsible for the slaughter of many orcs, including the ones that attacked lord Cirdan. We were told that a host of orcs came through passes in the Ered Wethrin to attack the strangers at unawares as they were setting up their camp. They fought back and drove the orcs to Ard-galen. The orcs assaulting the Havens came north to aid their brethren against the strangers, but were all destroyed. Thus, the Havens were freed."

"And did you learn who these mysterious 'strangers' were, Saeros?" Amdir asked when Saeros paused. His tone was dry, near enough mocking that his father, Tathron, raised his eyebrows disapprovingly.

"That is why you are here, Amdir. To find out who they were," Thingol responded, looking at the young elves evenly. "Continue, Saeros," he said with a nod as Oropher and Amdir exchanged a rueful look.

Saeros bowed again and looked back at Amdir with his chin high and an irrepressible gleam in his eyes. "The Grey Elves told me that the strangers are princes of the Noldor—the sons of no less than the High King, lord Finwë, himself—returned from Aman. They say they were sent by the Valar to defend us from the Evil One, who they have named Morgoth," he declared.

Stunned silence reigned as all present absorbed that information. Then the murmurings began, quickly rising in pitch until voices echoed throughout the stone hall. Thingol allowed it to continue for a long moment before holding up his hand. The room quickly fell silent and all looked to the King with a mixture of wonder and concern.

"My thanks, Saeros, for bringing me this important news," Thingol said. Then he looked out over the elves assembled before him. "I am pleased to hear news of my friend, lord Finwë, for I have always regretted being sundered from him. And I am hopeful to hear news of my brother, Olwë, from these Princes of Valinor." He paused and his tone grew more serious. "Indeed, there is a great deal more information that I want."

Saeros looked at Thingol regretfully, but the King shook his head.

"No Saeros, you were right to not to tarry in delivering this news. But now that I know what has happened to the orcs besieging the Havens, I have still more questions, for while I will not refuse aid in defeating the Evil One, long have I been King in Beleriand and the ordering of its protection is mine to command." He paused again and his tone was distinctly frosty when he continued. "Since the sons of Finwë have not yet seen fit to send messengers to the King of the lands they now inhabit, I intend to send my own representatives to them. But the journey north towards the Mountains of Shadow where the Noldor are camped is long and dangerous. Only one with proven skill with arms might undertake it. But this task is not one I will trust to any soldier."

"I will return, my lord," Saeros offered at once.

Again Thingol shook his head. "I have more need of you here, Saeros," he answered.

"Then, if it is your will, my lord, I will go," Oropher said, standing and leaning forward slightly over the table where he sat next to his father.

Thingol smiled at him. "Along with the rest of the pack that you run with, no doubt," he said, his smile broadening when Engwe, Amdir and Amglaur all stood and nodded as one.

Thingol looked at Celeborn and Galathil.

Celeborn stood. "Like Oropher, if it is you will, my lord, I would very much like to meet our kin returned from Aman."

Thingol nodded once. "It is indeed my will that you should go to Mithrim. And this is how you shall speak for me to the sons of Finwë: I am grateful for whatever aid they lent my people in the Havens; and I am anxious for news of my kin and friends in Valinor; but I expect the recognition that I am due as King of Beleriand. They will send a representative to me and quickly to speak to their intent in my lands."

Oropher and his cousins bowed to signal their understanding and, as Thingol moved to dismiss the assembly, they exchanged pleased and excited glances that were poorly hidden by their bowed heads.

* * *

Oropher carefully inspected the blade of his sword before slipping it into its scabbard and girding it securely about his waist. It was the last of the belongings that he had gathered for his journey west and north. He was reaching to heft the bag that contained his clothes and other supplies when the door to his chambers opened. Expecting to see Engwe, his brows rose when, instead, his father entered the room.

Cellon glanced at Oropher's hand upon the strap of his bag and his held his own hands in front of him, palms out. "A moment, please, before you join your brother and cousins," he said.

Oropher frowned, but released the strap.

Cellon studied him closely. "I am not surprised that you volunteered to represent the King," he began, his voice carefully neutral. "And I am pleased the King would choose my sons and nephews for such a serious responsibility," he continued, placing heavy emphasis on the word 'serious.'

Oropher sighed and struggled not to roll his eyes. "I will perform that duty faithfully, adar. This is not the first time that the King has asked my cousins and I to bear news in his name to distant parts of the realm."

"No it is not," Cellon answered. "But this is the first time you have _volunteered_ to be his messenger. In the past, that has been a duty that you tried to skirt in favor of more pleasing pastimes, like racing your horse or disappearing into the forest with your cousins. So forgive me if I am suspicious of your motivations now. Please tell me what they are," he demanded.

Oropher scowled and studied his father, judging the likelihood of dodging this conversation. It was immediately obvious there was no chance at all. He sighed again. "I have many reasons, adar. I am curious to meet the elves returned from Valinor and hear their stories…"

"I doubt that," Cellon, interrupted. "You have never been one to have the patience to listen to stories."

Oropher's frown deepened. "And I want to see for myself that my friends near the sea all survived the battles," he continued as if he had not been interrupted.

"That is more believable," Cellon said. "Go on."

"And I want to see the mists that Eöl spoke of," he admitted with a slight growl to his voice. "I want to know what it is like to pass through the lands that the Lady protects and I want to see for myself if it is truly now impossible to wander freely as we always have."

"And now we light upon the truth of it," Cellon said, but if Oropher expected his father to be angry, he was mistaken. Cellon was clearly distressed. "Another of your adventures. The lands outside the forest are no longer safe, Oropher, and this journey will be no game. You will not return if you look upon it as one." He took a step towards his son and gripped his shoulders. "I will not see my own sons die so soon after seeing so many of my cousins perish in battle. Swear to me that you will be careful, ion nin."

Oropher's expression changed from one of irritation to concern. "I was in the battle, adar," he replied softly. "And they were my cousins too. I will not soon forget naneth's tears when we returned. We will be careful. And we will deliver the King's message faithfully."

Cellon loosed long breath and released him, taking a step back to assess his preparations. "I know that the King chose well when he asked you to represent him, but I worry about you Oropher. I always have," he said quietly. "In this instance, as in so many before it, I will take comfort in the fact that the King saw to it that Celeborn and Galathil are going with you. At least they can be counted upon for being cool-headed."

Oropher raised his eyebrows in amusement as he lifted his pack onto his shoulders. "You think so, do you?" he asked provocatively, before stepping around his father to move towards the door.

Cellon put his hands on his hips with a scowl, but he did not stop his son from exiting the room.


End file.
